The Young Bride's Dream, By Laura Garrison

Night revives the past; I live that other

life each time I close my eyes and rest my

head upon my prince's chest. I tiptoe

through the golden temple, and the ocean

breezes blow the smell of sun-warmed mangoes

through the windows, where it mingles sweetly

with the perfumed oils we burn to honor

goddesses forgotten by the modern

world. I always ask about a certain

carving in dark marble near the altar

that is strange to me. It shows a woman

naked to the waist, with a great wavy

mass of hair and, rather than a pair of

human legs, a scale-encrusted fish's

tail. The priestess tells me that the creature

is a mermaid, and that mermaids have the

most melodic voices of all beings,

although only drowning sailors ever

get to hear them. She is whispering, and

her breath flutters through her veil of blue-green

silk, which ripples swiftly under her eyes.

Then the priestess vanishes, as people

often do in dreams. Alone, I trace the

contours of the mermaid's body with my

fingertips and wonder. Then the candle

flames begin to flicker in the wind, while

all the sandalwood balls vibrate in their

glass bowls. Soon, the thunderstorm arrives, and

far into the night it rages, hurling

fistfuls of cold rain against the temple

walls. In the stillness of the next morning

we sort through the bits of flotsam that have

washed up on our shore, and I see the boy

lying in the sand, unconscious and close

to death. As the others help me carry

him inside, I hear a splash, and there is

movement in the weeds, but after the boy

looks into my eyes, I forget about

everything else that matters. I marry

him, and he is mine completely, but a

finned and graceful shadow dances at the

edge of my perception like a bubble.

Now each time I sink below the surface

of my consciousness, I hear a song more

beautiful than any earthly hymn; its

sorrow enters my soul like a hot blade,

and I wake up in a fever, barely

able to restrain myself from plunging

into the sea to meet the foam's embrace.

Laura Garrison is very pale (like Snow White), enjoys long naps (like Sleeping Beauty), and can't resist sweets (like Hansel and Gretel). Some of her other poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Turtle Quarterly, Scifaikuest, Defenestration, and The Northville Review, among others.